Game, Set and Match
by silverducks
Summary: When Sybil suggests a friendly game of tennis at their Midsummer Garden Party, trouble and calamity starts brewing, especially when Mary and Matthew find themselves on the same team.


_This is a pretty silly story set __between episode 4 and 5. __It was written for Mary/Matthew's Monday Madness community on LJ (link in my profile). More chapters will be on their way and reviews, good or bad, are always welcome!  
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><p>The tennis game had barely begun and already there was trouble brewing between the teams, or rather, within one team in particular. No one should really have been surprised, however, when lots were drawn and Mary and Matthew were left to play together. A number of anxious and troubled glances had passed between all the players, except for Matthew and Mary, who had simply stood staring at the ground, avoiding each others eyes and refusing to meet anyone else's. lj-cut<p>

"Do you even know how to play tennis, Cousin Matthew?" Mary had asked, her voice dripping with disdain and condemnation. "I wouldn't have thought it one of the skills necessary to become a country solicitor."

Matthew had done his best to ignore Mary's contempt and insult; he was used to it by now. He'd been at Downton long enough to know that him and his fourth cousin, _Lady_ Mary, would never become good friends, a fact that she liked to remind him of whenever she could. "Yes, I do know how to play tennis, Cousin Mary, I was taught to in school. I even made the school team in my last few years." He'd smiled at everyone, keeping his voice warm and affable, a deliberate contrast to Mary's reproach.

Mary's reply had been to simply roll her eyes as everyone else just looked uneasy. Cora had been about to suggest they choose teams again, but it was Robert who had decided the matter. With a huge smile at them all huddled near the makeshift canopy, he'd said, "Well, now that we have all our teams sorted, let us begin to play!"

And so the first two doubles had strode out across the lawn, braving the bright June sunshine and taking their positions on the tennis court. Sybil and Branson on one team, for they'd been in need of an extra male player to even out the numbers and Branson had been the only servant willing, according to Sybil who's idea it had been to ask them. On the other stood Isobel Crawley, looking rather steadfast and fierce in her skirts and hair blowing about in the strong summer breeze, as she'd forsaken her hat for the purpose of play. Beside her stood Dr Clarkson, who had been invited to this small summer gathering and was rather interested in how Mrs Crawley would fare on the tennis court – she was certainly always surprising him in other areas of expertise.

On the side lines watching were the rest of the players, Mary and Matthew standing on opposite sides of the marquee, looking pointedly ahead and not at each other. Edith and Robert, their competition once the first game was finished, stood in the middle, under the shade. Cora was resting in the shade as an unofficial umpire together with Violet, who had rather scoffed at the idea at first, only to decide to join in when Isobel had commented that she'd loved to play tennis in her youth.

Mary just looked out across the garden in disapproval, leaning on the tent pole and pretending to be bored by the proceedings and only vaguely watching the tennis game that took place out on the lawn in front of her. She was, however, actually paying more attention than she usually would as she found herself rather rooting for Cousin Isobel, who proved herself quite a match to be reckoned with on the court. She not only knew how to lobby a ball back with as fierce a backhand as any Mary had ever seen at Wimbledon, but she also seemed well trained in arguing with the umpire about the rules surrounding whether a ball was in, or out. When her granny was quick to disallow a very dangerously fast ball from her, Cousin Isobel was more than able to walk towards the umpire, put forward her case in such a convincing manner that even her mother was willing to go against the Dowager Countess and concede the point. For their part, Sybil and Branson remained quiet, not wanting to disagree with either of the fierce, determined ladies.

Mary was also finding it highly entertaining, and perhaps a little worrying, watching her sister be taught a few tricks by the family's chauffeur. It seemed Isobel was not the only surprise tennis player and Branson often took the opportunity to take Sybil's hand and show her how to hold a racquet properly or follow through a fast ball of Cousin Isobel's. If it wasn't for the warm spirit and happiness in the air, Mary probably would have commented on Sybil's behaviour, but as it was, and no one else seemed to find anything amiss, Mary simply made a mental note to talk to Sybil about it later. It did not do to get too familiar with the paid staff.

For reasons other than sportsmanship, Mary was also silently encouraging Cousin Isobel. Not only would she love to see the look on her grandmother's face if the woman won, but she was also quite determined that Sybil should lose. It was, after all, thanks to her youngest sister's blasted idea that this tennis game began in the first place!

They'd been having a relatively nice and relaxing afternoon, enjoying the midsummer's day sunshine, which was quite an experience in itself, and drinking tea and eating sandwiches under the marquee the servants had put up that morning. The small garden party had been planned in advance, one was always held to mark the summer solstice, but usually the clouds thickened and the rain poured down, causing the specially prepared cakes to be taken indoors amidst the sounds of complaints and the thrashing of rain against the drawing room windows. Today, when the sun had heralded in a bright and beautiful day before even the servants were awake, it had brought brilliant smiles to everyone faces. Well, maybe everyone but the servants, who had to then begin erecting the temporary marquee and distributing chairs and cushions around the small tables. The servants wouldn't have minded quite so much if it wasn't for the knowledge that plenty of times over the years they'd completed this task, only for the heavens to open and panic to reign as everything was hastily rushed back inside before too much damage was done.

So when the sky remained a brilliant, cloudless blue past luncheon, even the servants were somewhat cheered, those that were needed eager to spend their afternoon's work in the beautiful warm outdoors. Even Mary found herself smiling at the thought of spending the day in the bright June sunshine and she had been determined to not let even Cousin Matthew ruin a pleasant afternoon.

Instead it was Sybil who had ruined it by suggesting they should play tennis - in celebration of Wimbledon she'd said, which had begun that day and been in all the national newspapers. Mary had at first decided not to bother, it was not the most dignified or elegant of pastimes for a lady of her stature, but before she'd had chance to air her protestations at Sybil's silly idea, Matthew had chipped in, far too enthusiastically, with his desire to play. His mother and her father had soon followed, as had Granny, though hers had been rather the opposite in objecting any involvement, and Mary was left with looking like a spoil sport and siding with her grandmother if she refused. So as dryly and indifferently as she could manage, making clear that she was by no means enthused about this latest endeavour, she'd acquiesced and agreed to play. Edith, never one to miss a chance to possibly outdo her sister, had quickly piped in that she would be most happy to play. And so the servants loitering about had rapidly been dispatched to find and fetch the net and posts and the old racquets from some forgotten store room, watched over by the careful eye of Mr Carson to make sure it was all done as expediently and efficiently as possible. Mrs Hughes had been in charge of organising another batch of servants to find chalk and a long tape measure to plot out the court on the grounds by the tent. After a rather heated discussion on what the line markings were, and the rules for doubles versus singles, and after a few servants had been sent to the library to find literature on the subject, teams had been drawn by lots, though Mary was not at all convinced at their fairness.

She did have to admit, however, that she was probably paying more attention to the game in front of her because she was trying to avoid paying attention to something, or should she say _someone_, else. Her relationship with Cousin Matthew seemed to be almost as unpredictable as the English weather this summer. One minute they seemed to be able to talk cordially, almost friendly, the next they were arguing and belittling each other again, though Mary had to suppose that was more her fault than her cousin's. Ever since Matthew had come to the house the other month, when the village fair had visited Downton, Mary had found herself needing to be incredibly wary and guarded around him. Their relatively frank conversation about the entail had served to show a few, quite worrying things to Mary. The first being that she was finding it more and more difficult to stay angry and annoyed at her cousin for stealing her inheritance. After all, he'd proven that night that he'd tried his uppermost to investigate the entail and to find reasons to disinherit himself and make Mary the lawful, as well as rightful, heir to the fortune and grounds of the estate. However, disliking Matthew less for his role in her disinheritance left Mary with the second, far greater problem; the quandary of what she did feel for him in its place. There were certainly plenty of reasons to still dislike him, the uppermost one being that everyone seemed to want her to marry this upstart, middle class solicitor. However, those reasons were starting to become harder to convince herself of and instead she found herself thinking of reasons to admire him, such as his quick wit; his ability to stand up for himself, even to her; the way he always seemed to surprise her and the fact that he was rather handsome. That night in the library also wasn't helping, for she remembered clearly Matthew's behaviour towards her, how he'd almost seemed to show a strong admiration for her… How he'd held her hand in goodbye and looked into her eyes, making her heart quite stop beating for a moment… She'd shaken it all away when he'd left, reasoned away both of their behaviours, but the chinks in her defences remained and Mary did not like that one tiny little bit. So she'd found herself trying to dislike Matthew even more, trying to find reasons for disdain in everything he said and did; a role which sometimes worked and sometimes failed miserably.

A good reason for Mary to dislike Matthew was how highly admired he was by her father, something Mary found incredibly infuriating, but when she was feeling in a more favourable mood, she could even forgive him for that; the cause lying with her father, not with him. Other ways she'd found were finding fault with what he did and what he said, every mistake adding a mark to the tally in her head. Though even this wasn't easy; Matthew could be so friendly and charming at times that sometimes it was hard to keep note of his mistakes. When one or the other was slightly out of sorts, it was easier. Then she could let herself wallow in the delight that Matthew would never be _one of them_, that he'd always be an upstart heir, only in his current luxury and social elevation due to a strange rule within the law. Mary had been inclined to this less favourable disposition only the other week, when Matthew and his mother had been invited round for dinner, a far too regular occurrence for Mary's liking, though annoyingly enough, Mary was finding it harder to deny she was looking forward to these events. She reasoned it away, of course, with the fact that she supposed it quite reasonable to want varying company other than her own tiresome family and it did so give her opportunities to add to her list of Matthew's faults. That day, in a rather frustrated mood following a run in with Edith, Mary was finding it almost too easy to condemn Matthew in her mind, so when he made a big faux pass, and used the wrong knife at dinner, Mary couldn't resist correcting him and, when she was met by his frosty glare and cool, far too smooth and witty retort, Mary's dislike and opinion against him was simply confounded. A dislike which, as she had not seen him since, still remained and made this whole stupid midsummer garden party all the more irritating and infuriating!

Despite her best efforts to not let him ruin this pleasant afternoon, the simple presence of Matthew was serving to only further increase her aggravation and annoyance towards him. It didn't help that Mary was currently in the worst state of moods when it came to Cousin Matthew; the mood which was not pernickety or vengeful enough to find fault with everything he did, yet was trying so very hard to do so. Whilst Matthew's current disdain for her was obvious, it was forgivably only echoing that which she showed towards him and quite natural following her own behaviour towards him last week. So when Matthew had arrived, looking far too fetching and appealing in his white summer suit, for all the world the very picture of a future Earl of Grantham and Mary had found herself staring a little too long and fixatedly at him, her frustration at herself, which of course simply manifested itself into frustration at him, had quite taken over and she'd glared and glowered at him from his very arrival. She'd also made it her business to take every opportunity that afternoon to insult him or belittle him, trying to get a reaction out of him that could nicely add to the tally of his faults within her mind. A tally which was rather in danger of fading under its own neglect, for whenever she caught sight of the sun beaming down and lighting up his tanned complexion or casting his face into shadows which merely served to heighten his handsome profile, a mark seemed to slip off this list of faults. And so, to counter and fight all this, Mary was finding herself having to try so very hard to stay annoyed at him, to continually prove to herself just how unworthy he was and how he'd never belong here, at this garden party in the vast and magnificent grounds of her family's great stately home.

Whatever Matthew may make of Mary's changeable and contradictory behaviour she did not know, but he seemed to have become quite adept at reading her current mood and state of dislike towards him and adjusting his own behaviour accordingly. A skill which varied in admiration for Mary, for when it echoed her own contempt and frustration it was quite refreshing, but when it only seemed to contradict it, or remain neutral, was as annoying to Mary as the man himself. Whilst to Matthew, who was at the brunt end of it always, Mary's behaviour being as changeable as the tides was as obvious as the phases of the moon, it seemed her family saw only the contempt Mary often showed towards this middle class lawyer. A fact which suited Mary very well, though sadly today it had not helped in the slightest, for though they were uneasy about the choice of teams, the teams still remained and Mary was now about to be stuck in a game of doubles with the one man she did not want to ever have to team up with, ever. And if Mary's heart skipped another beat whenever she looked across at the handsome man in question, it was either a factor of the far too searingly hot sunshine or that she'd had little appetite for Mrs Patmore's famous scones. It was also yet another strike against him, a strike made known in a glower in his direction or a slight against him made loud enough for all around to hear.

A shout from the court drew Mary's attention and she realised they had now reached match point, with Cousin Isobel and Dr Clarkson about to win the game, set and match. As Cousin Isobel served, Mary, along with the other spectators, held her breath as her cousin raised her arm, threw the ball in the air and, as it fell back under its own weight, she beat it with so fierce a passion it quite flew past even Branson's racquet, banging the ground with an almost audible crash just within the chalked line on the grass.

"Out!" Came the Dowager Countess' loud cry from the marquee.

Cousin Isobel was ready at once for this decision and immediately spun around and all but stomped towards the umpires, her face a deep scarlet shade, though whether that was from the exertion of play one could not tell. Her racquet was held over her head as if ready to volley another ball, or something else entirely, and even the few servants scattered about crept backwards until they faded into the distance. Only one of the two umpires looked unconcerned by the approach of Mrs Crawley and she merely looked at the woman with disdain as she mounted her defence. "The ball was clearly in! It was well within the chalk boundary."

"It was over," was the only response in contention and the Dowager Countess was about to turn towards the plate of scones next to her when her son chimed in. It seemed Mary's father was eager to play himself and was feeling brave enough to not only stand up to his mother, but to agree with her nemesis. "The ball was clearly in, mama. Let Cousin Isobel and Dr Clarkson have the point. That is, if Sybil or Branson agree." The Earl looked pointedly at his youngest daughter and the family's chauffeur, trying only to be as fair as possible.

Sybil looked as if she were about to protest, but Branson knew better than to argue with his employer and spoke before Sybil had the chance. "Yes, the ball was just in." Clearly a politician in the making, he quickly added, nodding at the Dowager Countess, "but it was only just in, which may be hard to tell from a different angle."

Mary would normally have smiled at the look of annoyance on her grandmother's face as she knew she'd been beaten, though she was trying to hide it. Ever the Dowager Countess, she was indomitable and determined to maintain her superiority and she picked up her tea cup with a flourish and elegantly took a sip. Holding her head up high, she glowered at her nemesis in contempt, who was standing over her with her hand on her hip and the racquet still wielded above her head. It was only when Mary's mother announced that Isobel and Dr Clarkson had won the first match that the racquet was lowered and a bright, victorious smile lit up Cousin Isobel's former thunderous face. But Mary was too concerned with what this victory would mean to share in her cousin's justified triumph and Granny's disgrace. For now it was time for the next teams to take their places and Mary looked across at her teammate in condemnation. He was, of course, looking annoyingly smug and self righteous, congratulating his mother on her win and no doubt claiming it as a victory of them, the _outsiders_, over the rightful Crawley family. It didn't help that the smug look actually suited Matthew's handsome features very well, nor that the golden afternoon light was causing his beautiful blue eyes to sparkle in the sunshine. When he caught her eyes a moment later, she glared at him with as much ladylike vehemence as she could muster, before turning away and glaring at her mother instead, for her next words were not what Mary wanted to hear at all. "Well, it's time for the next teams to begin!"


End file.
